elegy for the undead
by Kaoru Camui
Summary: Death, and an impassionate God. Jezebel's thoughts on Alexis, in the first person.


elegy for the undead

by Kaoru Camui

kamimura_ukyo@yahoo.com.sg

**[i.]**

Sometimes he smiles at me, and tells me with those twisted pallid lips that he loves me.

He says he loves this forsaken world, and chants an elegy for those fallen as he slowly approaches, a regal figure swathed in a heavy ebony mantle. 

_You must never forget, Jezebel,_ he intones, _remember__ who you are and what I have done for you._

But memories fade, they always do. 

So we must write them onto our flesh in fresh crimson ink before sealing them with serrated scars into the deepest recesses of our hearts.

He scrawls his possession of me in violently smoldering claret, a taunting smirk playing at the corners of his thin mouth. An artist painting his masterpiece of whirling anarchy indeed, furiously sketching with such exquisite ardor, such fervent intensity – that I can almost believe the whispered deceit, the tender lies he conjures.

"Does it hurt, Jezebel?" He traces an icy finger down my shivering, exposed back, ensuring the absolute flawlessness of my remembrance, before savoring that terrible mixture of blood and sweat and pure unfettered anguish tainted by love.

And it lingers on my tongue too, the traces of poignant yearning, bittersweet wine and honeycomb milk.

Never letting go, binding me to him, to him, to him. The strange man with raven locks swept high above a severe forehead, discerning eyes peering dispassionately from silver-rimmed spectacles. Someone who knows me too well, someone who is to me oddly familiar; the serpent of Eden perhaps, who tempts me to dream.

Outside stretches a gloomy portrait of a wintry London, an ornately surreal landscape flecked with grey and rendered monochrome. Sleek silver raindrops beat steadily against the misted windows, playing a fugue of forgotten lore and the buried past. Across the cobblestoned street, a scrawny child sits huddled against the bleak wall, thin white shirt barely offering any protection from the cruel torrent.

"I expect an answer, Jezebel." Placid, consciously tinged with impassive malice – the man's voice runs like a lover's caress over my spirit, soothing and calming me. A desperate madness blazes in his eyes, in mahogany orbs so dark that they seem to have devoured the color of the irises themselves. Untouchable, reveling in his own malefic decadence. The unmarred, well-preserved corpse of my clandestine fancies.

Abruptly, the child shudders, unkempt strands of ash-brown hair hanging choppily over his gaunt face, veiling what I imagine must be an expression of quiet distress and innocent helplessness. 

Then he remains still, terribly still, frighteningly unmoving.

I clip the frayed remnants of this perfectly imperfect creature, his torment is now mine.

"No, Father."

The man laughs, and envelops me in an embrace, the folds of his cloak stabbing excruciatingly at my wounds. I can feel his touch, coldly fanatical, trickling through my countenance, provoking the senses long hidden within. And as I lift my gaze to meet his, relishing the aristocratic refinement of his starkly dramatic features, I can feel it again, that sensual erotic hatred and yearning scorching the pit of my soul.

"You are mine, Jezebel. Only mine." 

Nothing matters anymore, in this world of tranquil quiescence there exists only him and I. I love him and with his gentle requital will be the creation of our immortal fairytale.

I ask him if he still loves me and he says he will no matter what, be I a sinner or a saint.

Because, he says, we are all the same.

**[ii.]**

Sometimes he likes to pretend he is God.

Divining the future of this wretched city with the primordial knowledge of the Tarot, appreciating London's impending devastation with a vindictive flourish. Watching everything with detachment, a nameless yet potent deity, never doing anything to intervene. 

Not even when the chilly metallic embodiment of ambition is pressed, with a sharp bark of sardonic amusement, to the back of his head. 

"Your job is done, _Master_." The pale-haired man pulls back the safety catch, his visage an unfathomable sheet of spiteful serenity. 

A God who defiantly confronts the premise of death; and Death a silent observer behind velvet curtains, both performing the ironic tragedy of the two who hate to love on a lavish stage of careful treachery and ruthless dreams. 

He told me a story once, a long, long time ago. 

Where Death, a hapless marionette, fell irrevocably for the God who, with callous shrewdness, manipulated his broken strings with graceful ease. Against the magnificent milieu of a fairytale wonderland, they coexisted in a marble Tower, their love for each other perverse yet true. Then one day, the Tower turned on them. And Death, that wretched slave to his human emotions, decided to annul the God's name from his destined end and replace it with his own. Gradually, indubitably, the Tower crumbled, taking Death with it, burying scarlet faithfulness under layers of ashes and dust.

Death bequeathing his lover eternity with Death's demise, a harshly paradoxical love story only he could think of. 

"You will learn to love me one day, Jezebel."

Then he kissed me ever so affectionately, and bade me goodnight.

Riffuel Raffit holds a casual conversation with Alexis Hargreaves, a pistol pointed at the latter's head. Jezebel Disraeli watches wordlessly, an ineffective God, never doing anything to intervene.

Absurd.

Spin the chamber, hear it click into place.

I know what I must do. 

The sudden realization of my duty washes over me like a reassuring tide, a tranquility I have not experienced for a long time.

So close your eyes, my love, don't be afraid.

Because I'll be waiting for you on the other side.

**-- owari --**

Author's notes: I was really traumatized by Book 13 of the Count Cain tankouban. T_T And there's not enough Alexis/Jezebel fics out there, so… hehe. Please forgive me if this is OOC. Inspired by a Chinese song, 'Shou Le Dian Shang' [Just a little hurt], by Ah Sang. ^^ Enjoy!

-kaoru c.-


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